


Paradise, but only for a day

by teeglow



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Aramis is feeling lonely, F/M, Monk!Aramis, Pining, Post-Rochefort, Soul-Searching, emotional angst, post season two, pre season three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 12:12:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17828324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teeglow/pseuds/teeglow
Summary: Aramis misses his friends. He misses Paris. He misses everyone. He misses her. But atonement is meant to be a sacrifice. But still. He wonders.





	Paradise, but only for a day

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Written In The Stars from the musical AIDA aka the most romantic song of all time.

Aramis knows love. Of all the things he is ignorant about (and he admits freely that there is a lot), love isn’t one of them. He knows his faults; he knows he’s impulsive, reckless, terrible at feelings, reluctant to ask for help, even when he is in dire need of it. But he had never counted his love as something to be afraid of. Truly not until Isabelle died anyway.

_Any woman would be fortunate to be loved by you._

The thought springs to his mind unbidden (or perhaps not unbidden at all, because his thoughts almost always drift to her at this time of night), and he thinks wryly, _Tell that to Marguerite_

Then again, he didn’t really love her did he? Not like he loved the others. The thought makes him feel ashamed.

But it’s good to be ashamed, he thinks. He deserves to be.

He just wishes he could stop the longing.

 _I wonder if Louis looks like this_ , he found himself thinking one night as he tucked a very sleepy and impossibly small Pierre into bed. The lad had spent all day playing soldiers with Luc and had been cast as ‘The Cardinal’ for the sole reason that he didn’t whinge about it like Marie did.

(Aramis is thankful he never told them Rochefort’s name because he doesn’t think he could bear to hear that now or ever, and certainly not from the mouth of babes).

Pierre just loved to be included and confessed shyly to Aramis one night that he had fun playing the ‘baddie’, even though he didn’t want to do evil deeds, not really. He just liked pretending. Aramis told him not to worry, that God knew what was in our hearts, and not another word was said as the Abbot came in with a rare cake and everyone knows that that is enough to soothe the most pressing of worries.

Well. It worked for Pierre anyway.

Aramis wonders whether the Dauphin likes cake. He wonders about all his little quirks, in spite of himself, wonders what his favourite toys are, whether he’s allowed to play with them every day and what lessons he is best at.  He hopes the boy is happy. Really, what is the point if not that? He hopes he has friends.

Goodness knows, Aramis misses his own something fierce. It aches to know that they are out there, likely in danger more often than not and living their lives without him. It makes his chest _hurt_ , but there is no alternative. Retiring to the monastery had to be a sacrifice, he tells himself again. Atonement isn’t supposed to be easy.  

Then again, not easy Aramis can cope with, but this? _The pain?_ He’s not sure how much he expected that. He’s lost count of the hours he spent kneeling, knees aching and hands cramping as he clasped them together, pleading with God to make it easier, to help it pass, to give him strength to do what He wanted, but the pain lingers, duller, maybe, but very much there. Every now and then it sharpens, as if suddenly someone has carved the end, when Aramis remembers that any one of his friends could be in imminent danger that very moment. Would his presence make any difference? What if his absence has damned them all?

But he can’t think about it for too long; it’s indulgent and pointless. He throws himself into his work instead, plentiful as it is in Douai and he remembers that he is all these children have in the world. The other brothers don’t crave company like he does (he wonders if any of them ever had friends as good as his) and they aren’t nearly as fun.

Pierre told him that once conspiratorially as little Marie nodded seriously beside him, and he takes a small amount of pride in it, though he knows pride is a sin. He can’t help it. To be loved is a gift, and one that he doesn’t intend to throw away lightly.

He hopes his brothers know that whatever he has done, whatever choices he has made, none of it has been done lightly. But, he reminds himself, it is not for him to tell them that. He shall not seek their forgiveness, or their comfort. It is his penance.

Porthos won’t understand, Aramis knows. How can he, really? He can’t understand quite how it felt to be stood in that prison cell, certain that he was going to be _broken upon the wheel_ and all his friends murdered - his _son_ too - only then to be saved in the last moment, when he thought all hope was lost. _Saved, Porthos._ All of his friends returned to him safe and sound, the Queen and the Dauphin alive - the odds were _impossible._ It wasn’t luck, it was nothing short of a _miracle._

He struggles to make sense of his thoughts on it all sometimes. He believes - truly _believes -_  that love is a gift, but in that cell, he promised God once and for all he would dedicate his life to Him and that meant removing himself from the truest love he’s ever felt. Is he not wasting the gift God gave him in the first place, by throwing away the love of his brothers? Is he forsaking them, when he should be thankful instead?

Some days it feels clearer. These days are almost harder than the days where it feels murky, because he remembers it all - _Isabelle, Adele, Marguerite_ , the names running through his head like a horrible mantra - but at least it makes sense him being here, in Douai. To be loved is a gift, but to be loved by Aramis?

No, denying himself love - _true, uncomplicated love_ \- is the only thing he can do, to atone and better serve Him. Loneliness is his penance.

Nonetheless, Anne appears in his thoughts more often that he’d like to admit. Thinking about his brothers at least has the potential to bring some happiness - the children love hearing stories about France’s bravest warriors and Aramis can take some small comfort in that the stories are true, that he was part of something special once and he was fortunate. Thinking about Anne, though, is treason.

He meant what he said to Rochefort (and to Pierre), about God judging what is in our hearts, but, he thinks one evening as he takes off his robes and sits down on his scratchy, unkempt bed, he’s not so sure that what’s in his will Save him either. His heart, full of love or otherwise, is still a traitor to the crown. He likes to believe his Lord is the loving type - it is a gift, he prays again - but when his heart led him so close to the complete destruction of everything he held dear, it is hard to say that his love for the Queen is something He condones.

Late at night, though, when he stares into the utter darkness of his cell, his thoughts cannot help but drift to her. It scares him that he cannot stop - _God knows what is in our hearts_ \- and he tries to dismiss it as nothing but the love a subject should bear his Queen.

But he cannot stop the way his heart seizes at the thought of her smile, her hair, her eyes, as she looked at him like he was Atlas and she the world held safely in his hands. When such thoughts come, he finds he cannot sleep for hours. In his sleep, she will return to him, waking him with a soft kiss, her face surrounded by a halo of bright light shining through the delicate curtains, and he will be gone. There will be no resistance, no dread left to stop him, and when he wakes to reality - _a world without her_ \- the loss will not be punishment enough for his crime.

Still. He hopes she’s happy today. He prays for her (he prays for them all).

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Listen to Written in the Stars here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y3DgXIs5zQ4


End file.
